That moment
by EternalInspiration
Summary: ...when you have RANDOM inspirations and jus twrite them down quickly. So yeah, these will most likely be one-shots of any character(s). Warning: I may not have time to edit so please bear with me on the rough drafts. Thanks again!
1. Punk Brother

That _weird _moment….

When England accidentally gets transformed into his old punk form.

The door suddenly slams open with a **BAM!**, destroying the peace. "Alricht! Whilk one o' ye wise guys daune it!?" In came a fuming, crimson-haired Scotsman. His tall figure blocked the doorway, and his clenched fists kept anyone in the garden from moving. Emerald eyes carefully scanned each guest like a hawk looks for prey; all just looked up from their porcelain tea cups.

A tan, dark-haired nation spoke up, "What happened, Scotland?" Philippines tilted her head cutely, a worried expression on her face. Did something happen in the house? Or worst yet, did something happen to England?! The petit nation's eyebrows furrowed deeper; she hugged the thin, metal serving plate a little tighter.

The enraged Scotland raised his voice in a dangerously high volume. "Whit happened? Whit happened?! I tell ye whit happened! The git inside is back tae his awfu punk self!" Only Wales and North Ireland stiffened at this news. Unfortunately, America and Canada don't wasn't as alarmed for they had forgotten the time when their father-figure acted as an obnoxious punk rocker to feel _"youthful"._

One of the spectacled, golden-haired twins, wearing the leather bomber jacket, asked loudly, "Dude! Calm down! What the hell are you going on about?!" America flinched when the Scotsman's icy glare quickly bore into him. His smile never faded, though, just became crooked. "Dude, calm down…"

Speaking up for his frightened brother, Canada, with his signature red hoodie and bouncy curl on his head, said more gently, "I think what Alfred's trying to say is, what do you mean Arthur's in his 'punk self'?" The fluffy, white stuffed polar bear came to life and started to squirm around. Kumajiro, as Canada named him, did _not_ want to be here at the moment.

Squirming in their seats like Kumajiro, Wales and North Ireland swapped disturbed looks for a second. Finally, the England-look-alike – he was a tad paler in comparison and has shaggier hair – cleared his throat. "Um, you lads don't remember _incident_?" The twins shook their heads like little children. They looked up at their uncle with wide sky blue and lavender eyes, resembling curious children listening to their adult's tales and stories. Wales cleared his throat again and took a quick sip of tea. "Well, this was actually recent, over twelve years now." Another sip of earl grey. "So, England was in the delusion of having mid-life crisis." Wales emphasized the quotes around "mid-life crisis", his tone taking a sharp sarcastic tone. "Because of that, England ridiculously felt old. He was trying anything from society to make him feel young again, and that's when he found out about…," Wales took a deep sigh, "_rock music._" He murmured.

At last, the memories came flooding back in America's and Canada's head. They cringed and shivered at the memories of uproarious guitar playing, heavy makeup and piercings everywhere, distorted British accents, and various other unpleasant moments. Philippines, too, had cringed from the memories of cleaning the house while the punk kept trashing it every five seconds! Now that they had thought of the dreadful experiences, they can see why Scotland had been enraged.

Fortunately, however, the said nation had calmed down slightly; he was now leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and an irritated expression on his pale face. "So, whilk one of ye turn 'im back to the awfu punk?"

Just as we looked up, the back door slammed open on his face. The brusque devil himself came stomping in his old punk get-up: a thin white shirt with the British flag on it, blue jeans entirely shredded, and old electric guitar on his back. The only new thing was the black sunglasses he wore as a shield from the sun. "'Ello chaps! Good to see you today!" He strolled off coolly down the steps, grabbed on of the metal chairs, sat on the plush, and raised his feet on the small glass table. Everyone was silent and stared at him.

The poor door had been slammed, again, closed and a now enraged Scotsman stomped to his younger brother, rubbing his red nose. "Why ye git!" he said through clenched teeth. Scotland was right behind England and ready to pound him.

The blonde punk raised his head to the back; both green eyes quickly locked in an intense staring contest. "Why, 'ello brother," a playful smile grew on England's lips, "didn't see you there." That foxy British rocker accent irritating Scotland to no end.

A deadly smile replaced the redhead's menacing frown. "Like hell ye did." The other nations sweat dropped and shook for their lives. "Well, leuk, I'm here richt in front of ye." The smile grew until the ends reached from ear to ear.

England wasn't the least bit frightened. In fact, he felt invigorated and excited by the threatening tone. "I can see that now." His playful smile grew also.

Before the two can take things any further, Wales swiftly stood up put his arms between Scotland and England's faces. "That's enough ye two!" he shrilly shouted. Wales quickly put his arms to the side when the redhead stood up straight and looked at him. A yelp almost escaped his quivering lips.

America stood up also but kept his distance. "Okay, dudes, let's not destroy anyone here," he was sweating a bit. "Or Wales."

England burst out laughing. "And what are you going to do about it!? _Hero?_" The punk held up his hands to quote-un-quote the "hero" part. The bellicose glare instantly infuriated America, just as England had wanted. He looked around the nations, smiling insultingly at each of them, except for Philippines. "All of you here are pathetic! I wonder how all of you are bloody _independent!_" Again with the quote-un-quote hands. Then, he turned and perversely ogled at Philippines. "Except for her. I can understand why Spain wanted her back."

Philippines was shocked and indignant. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists.

Scotland, having had enough, stood up and grabbed his punk brother on the shirt. "Listen here, git. Show some respect!"

"_And why should I?"_ England coaxed. Then, he just plain out insulted everyone in the garden, enraging everyone, even Canada (who had hockey rage).

"That's it!" Scotland lifted one of his fists and readily took the first shot at his asshole of a brother.

"STOP!" A female voice commanded. Everyone froze. Then she regained her composure, sighed, and smiled an unsettling smile on her "sweet" face. "Allistor, please put him down," she said in a sweet yet ominous tone. The said nation did as was told and let go of England. The punk landed on his feet, unbalanced, and coughed a little. He then looked at Philippines, raising one of his thick eyebrows, figuring out her game.

"I guess I should thank you, huh, Bayani," he smiled, still on the defensive. England knew of Philippines' capabilities, especially her dark side.

"Oh, it was nothing!" She kept on cheerfully smiling, but the punk wasn't buying the sickeningly sweet act. "Anyways, everyone should sit down now. Or else the tea will get cold!" Philippines turned around back to the cart that had all the baked goods and teapot on it. Everyone sat down, tense and afraid of what was going tot happen next. Checking if the tea was still warm, Philippines smiled delightedly and took the beautifully decorated teapot. "Okay!" she turned. "The tea is still warm so drink up!"

England was the first to have his teacup poured. He thanked the nation but in a childish manner. As soon as he though that she was serving the others, he took a sip of his favorite earl grey. Then **CRACK! **went the teapot; England went down with a **THUD! **The rest of the nations slowly looked up at the pissed female, still holding the handle and spout of the teapot. Then, they looked down at the unconscious Englishman; and up again at Philippines.

She sighed, relieved that the nightmare was over. Quickly shacking her hands to get rid of the sticky tea, Philippines went to get the broom on the second bin of the cart and swept up the cracked fragments of the teapot. "Allistor, Alfred, can you guys be such dears and take Arthur inside please." Without skipping a beat, both of the nations hoisted Britain up by the arms and legs and went inside. North Ireland, Wales, and Canada were still frozen from the shock and fear. "Can the rest of you find Arthur's spellbook please? I think it's in his study still." The trio rushed off inside, also. Finally left alone, she sighed after wiping her forehead with her arm. "How many times did I tell him that Redbull does _NOT_ give you wings!"

Slowly coming to his senses, England groaned from the throbbing of his head. "OW!" he carefully touched his still-aching head, specifically the back. "What happened?"

"Ye casted the wrong spell, turning into an awfu punk," Scotland said calmly. He was sitting in a red chair next to the couch. Also, he was reading one of the books from the shelf that was on the left wall of the living room. England groaned again, blushing from embarrassment.

"How bad was I?"

"Eh, not to bad," replied North Ireland, sitting on the floor right in front of the flat screen. "There was no fight this time."

England sighed in relief, still gripping his onto his head. Suddenly, a warm, soft hand felt his forehead. He looked up alarmingly at Philippines.

She smiled, "It's okay." She extended the pain medication then the glass of water once he grabbed it. "I'm glad you're awake now." England noticed the guilty expression; he raised one of his eyebrows.

"Dude!" America shouted, increasing the pain. "I can't believe you thought Redbull actually gave you wings!" He burst out laughing, rolling on the floor with North Ireland.

Wales, who playing a game of chess with Canada at the right side of the room, tsked and laughed gently. "Oh broth, still not grown up yet."

England blushed furiously and returned to his cantankerous, crabby self. Everyone smiled when he started to yell, good to have the regular England back. They were all thinking, _'At least he didn't turn into a pirate!'_

Sucky endings are sucky -_-"… Anyways, this is the sort of thing I'm gonna write when I get bored from my other stories. It'll be full of drabbles, short stories, and randomosity. I'm sorry if it's full of grammar and spelling errors, I'm too tired to fix them.

Also, Scotland's accent was just in general. I had to look it up in Wikipedia, so things might be incorrect. It'd be great if you guys can give me some constructive criticism and help on how to type out accents.

Each of these stories/drabbles (Will someone please tell me what the beep that means!) are mostly random and from ideas I've had before and now. Some may have a few more chapters. Also, sorry for the OOCness that I'm about to write. I use OC's/FC's, too. Each story is gonna start with "That moment…." I don't know. I can't seem to explain what this is going to be… -_-"

Anyways, I really hoped you all enjoyed it! Please review because it helps me a lot to continue on and stuff! Give some ideas, request a moment, correct me spelling/grammar/etc., just put anything on the review! *panting* Well, thanks for reading~!


	2. End of the World

That_ hysterical _moment_…_

When America brings up December 21, 2012.

"GAAAH!" America, a blonde with spectacled blue eyes, panicked and started to run around the conference room. He had just realized what today was. "DUDES! WHY THE F*CK ARE WE STILL HERE?!"

The nations in the meeting room slowly looked up at the energetic blonde, looking like this is normal. England, a Brit with shaggy bleach blonde hair and beryl green eyes, sighed and rested his cheek on his palm, "What the bloody hell are you yapping about now, git?" He was in his usual foul mood again.

"IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD!"

All the nations just kept staring at America, who was running around the room, hands clutched at the sides of his head. Then, mixed reactions ensued. Some panicked like America, some kept calm and brushed the news off, some laughed nostalgically, and some just didn't care and went back to snoozing. The room was in utter chaos thanks to those who believed and panicked.

Suddenly, France, another wavy-haired blonde with deep crystal blue eyes, stood up and walked over to England. Bending over, he wrapped an arm around the Brit. "Ah~," he sighed, a nostalgic rush swept over him, "remember back then, when _we_ thought it was the end of the world?"

England crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. There was an amused smile plastered on his face. "Yes, I do." Another wave of nostalgia overcame him. "That sure was a bloody hectic day! I pity the person who predicted that one." France nodded. Then, both of them laughed like close buddies at the silly memory of that stupid day.

While the two just laughed, there were the _others:_ Italy and Romano, Japan (well, he half-panicked), Poland, Prussia along with Sealand (they both got in somehow…), etc. who lost it by running around the room, screaming.

Germany, another blonde who wasn't going to be played as a fool, stood up, teeth clenched. "EVERYONE SHUT UP AND SIT DOWN!" he commanded in his loud voice. Of course, it was overruled by all the shrill screams and loud footsteps. Finally seeing it as hopeless to calm them down, Germany sighed and sat down, deciding to endure the half hour. He sort of envied the nations, such as Greece, Turkey, Belarus, Russia, the Baltics, Canada, China, Hong Kong, etc., who either slept through all this or just ignored the bunch of hysterical idiots.

Fifteen minutes passed, and it seems that Germany and a few others were about to blow a fuse. They had enough of the "I DON'T WANNA DIE!" or "THIS IS SO NOT COOL/AWESOME!" screams; and who wouldn't get pissed at the classic "I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE!"

"EVERYONE! SHUT UP!" Germany lost it, knocking his chair down when he stood up. You know what? Screw it! If the idiots believe in the end of the world, then let them believe it! But! Making others suffer with their pansiness is a bit too much. "THE MEETING'S OVER!" And with that, Germany gathered his brief case and coat, being the first to leave all of _this._ He mumbled under his breath, "Take care, you _dummkopfs_… Happy End of World."

The others who kept calm stood up also and followed after Germany. As surprised as they were that Germany ended the meeting early, they understood why and took advantage of this opportunity to leave this kooky room. Oh well, if the end of the does happen, at least these idiots are the first to go… Right?

Pretty soon the room was empty except for the insane blockheads and a few sleeping nations trapped in their dreamlands. Yup… This is certainly a_ happy_ end of the world.

Happy end of the world! I'm so glad that I'm going outside for a trip! (That I'm not forced to go because I'm in trouble or anything. Teehee~)

Translation:

Dummkopfs: fools (got this from Google translate, so correct me if I'm wrong.)

Reviews very much appreciated please~!

I do not – absolutely not! – own Hetalia… If I did, some more African nations would be introduced…. ;^;


	3. Compliment

That _cute _moment…

When a compliment goes a long way.

A heavy sigh escaped her soft lips; her sparkling green eyes dimmed then closed from reality. Another sigh. Liechtenstein opened her eyes again and looked at her reflection on the mirror attached to her vanity desk. She had tried to ignore _those _thoughts: the vain thoughts about her looks. _Character is more important! …Right?_ Liechtenstein shook her head. _Right!_ Her inner voice sounded much weaker than the invading voice of doubt; however, she refused to give in.

Picking up her white hairbrush, Liechtenstein carefully brushed her soft, silky golden hair that nearly reached her shoulders. Each delicate stroke was accounted for. Finally, after a couple of minutes, she carefully set down the brush. _How can I make myself look prettier?_ Emerald eyes widened. What? _Will makeup do? _Liechtenstein vigorously shook her head, undoing the efforts of her recent brushing. No! She cannot lose! _I mean, I'm not as big-breasted as Katyusha nor do I have long, lush hair like Elizabeth and the others…_ How… How can she think like that?!

Liechtenstein's lips tightened in determination. She fought back her jealousy. _Well, Big Brother says that character is the most important beauty in a person! Outside appearance doesn't matter! _A minute of silence passed by in her head, so Liechtenstein smiled, thinking that she had won.

_Well, what if Vash said that to make you feel better about your looks? _The thought had shocked Liechtenstein, immediately backing her into a corner. _What if he just said that to cover up the truth: the truth about you being unattractive?_ She did not know how to respond to that; her inner doubt took advantage of her silence. _Yeah, remember how the male nations look at the other female nations. Remember how Vash stares at them. _There was a stabbing bitterness in her heart – she _did_ remember. She remembered the time at the recent world meeting how Hungary and Ukraine ganged up on Switzerland. With each woman interlocking arms at his side, the two were actually pissed at how the Swiss kept the "sibling" charade, not making a move on the cute Liechtenstein. Despite their motives, however, other nations misinterpreted the scene – of course that includes Liechtenstein. Tears welled up and stung her eyes from the memory, blurring her vision.

Liechtenstein's voice of reason was still silent, listening to her voice of doubt and deception. Through blurry eyes, Liechtenstein scanned her mahogany vanity table since the mirror was making her ill. She then noticed the black box of neatly organized makeup that she received as a birthday present – which she never really opened – from France. _He gave you that for a reason, you know. You even heard him say that when he was outside at the balcony._ The thoughts had an evil sneer. _France is the country of love. He would know what is beautiful and what is not: you are the not beautiful. _

_Love doesn't dictate beauty by appearance. It dictates by heart. _Yes! Her voice of reason was still fighting back!

_Oh yeah, _Oh no…, _well look around your vanity desk._ Liechtenstein did so, noticing all the things that didn't stand out as much 'til now: makeup kits, modern beauty magazines, hair accessories, etc. had decorated the surface. _Open the drawer_. She obeyed. Inside one of her drawers there was a stack of magazines that give tips on longer, more luscious hair, issues of busty women, and step-by-step instructions on how to dress like a "normal, beautiful" girl. In another drawer there were hair products and jewelry. _These were all gifts from the other male nations_. The begrudging thoughts were right; the only items Liechtenstein owned –well, except for a few of them (since one was given by Switzerland and the a few were presents from the females) – were the different colored ribbons.

Doubt had hit back full force, deception won over her reasonable senses, and envy was the spoil.

Like a dam breaking, her stinging eyes couldn't hold back the flowing salty water. Liechtenstein sobbed. _Why? Why am I thinking like this? Could it be true? Can they__ all__ be true? Why didn't they just say so?_

Because of her crying and dark thoughts (they just kept insulting her for some ill fun), Liechtenstein didn't hear the heavy footsteps that stopped right in front of her bedroom door and the soft knocking. "Lily," a deep voice said softly, "time for lunch." No response. Finding this odd but not a worrying issue (yet), Switzerland knocked again, a little harder this time. "Lily, it's time to for lunch!" Again, no response. Now starting to get worried, Switzerland put his ears on her door – out of military habit and over-protectiveness – to listen for any weird noise(s). A minute later, he heard something. _Dear God! Please let it not be what I think it is! _

Fortunately, his ears didn't pick up any other noise other than Liechtenstein's… Who sounded like she was …_Crying!_ Banging on the door, Switzerland shouted, "Lily! Are you okay? Please open the door!" Becoming impatient, Switzerland decided to just break the door (for the fifth this week…). He walked back a good number of inches then ran, ramming the door with all his might.

"Lily!" He froze when he saw her petit back and shoulders shaking. A moment passed by and the blonde Swiss was still staring the crying reflection of his "little sister". Closing his entranced eyes, Switzerland gathered his resolved and swiftly walked up behind Liechtenstein. "Lily, what's wrong?" his tone was a gentler, kinder.

"V-Vash?" Liechtenstein stuttered. She turned around to look up at her "older brother" through bleary eyes.

"Yes, it's me, Lily. What happened?"

Once Switzerland knelt down to be on the same eye-level, Liechtenstein wrapped her arms around Switzerland's neck and lightly pulled him into a hug. Her eyes were in the crook of his neck, so the tears dampened his bare skin – which caused him to slightly shiver.

Caught off guard by the sudden hug, Switzerland awkwardly rubbed his "little sister's" back and hair. "There, there, I'm here now." He said soothingly. Feeling the tears increasing, Switzerland asked anxiously, "Lily, what's wrong? Please tell me." Switzerland never wanted his "little sister" to experience any kind of pain, but there were inevitable times.

Liechtenstein can never tell lie, or if she had, she wasn't very good at it. Especially if she lied to Switzerland. Taking her time, she sighed and let it all out. "Do-do y-you th-think," her muffled crying didn't help with the stuttering. Yet, Switzerland understood every word.

"Do I what, Lily?"

"Do-do y-you think tha-that I-I'm ug-ugly?" Switzerland froze again, utterly shocked by the question. _How did she get that idea?!_

"Wha-what?" His deep beryl green eyes widened; his mind raced to answer the question. The grip on his little sister tightened.

Pushing her face even deeper in Switzerland's face, Liechtenstein repeated the question, "D-do you think tha-that I-I'm _ugly_?"

"Of course not!" Switzerland said, looking down at the sobbing Liechtenstein. "Where did you get that idea from?!"

"L-Look at my vanity desk," Liechtenstein's muffled voice ordered.

"What about it?"

"All those makeup kits, all those beauty magazines, all those jewelry and hair accessories, almost all of them are presents from the male countries!" Switzerland now understood.

"And so what?!"

"They all think that I'm ugly!" The sobs became louder.

Switzerland's rage flared at the sight of the disgusting chemicals and immoral pictures of the magazines. Fortunately, he restrained himself, taking a deep breath. "Lily?" The only response was a slight movement of her head. "Lily, I want you to do something for me. I want you to look at yourself in the mirror."

She made a muffled sound, sounding like a whimper, but Switzerland felt a nod. Albeit the time it took to overcome the hesitation and pain, Liechtenstein looked directly at the mirror as ordered. Her face a mess: her eyes were red and puffy, her pale cheeks had streaks of dried tears, her nose kept sniffling to keep the snot from dripping, and her bangs interfered with her sight. The sight had backfired the first phase of the Swiss's phase.

"Bro-brother Va-Vash," she squirmed a bit, the thoughts seemed like unbearable shouts, "wh-why are you making me do this?"

"So that you know who you truly look like," he said, gripping her shoulders. Switzerland rested his head on Liechtenstein's neck. "Now, listen closely, Lily, or I'll repeat myself over and over again if you don't." Liechtenstein can hear her older brother's serious tone and feel his determination; she nodded. "Okay, Lily, look deep into that mirror. What do you see?"

The sister still didn't understand what the Swiss was trying to do. Didn't he already know that she sees an ugly, naïve tomboy who stupidly figured it all out now? Liechtenstein, sighing, answered the waiting question, "I see… I see an unattractive, flat-chested girl who cried her eyes out instead of acting like a mature lady." There was a moment of excruciating silence – Liechtenstein wasn't prepared for that. She needed her brother to reply back, or else she'll go insane with one more minute of silence, alone with her thoughts.

Finally, Switzerland carefully picked out his words and replied, "No, the girl I see isn't like that." Liechtenstein had a confused yet relieved expression. "I see a girl who is very gorgeous. She has soft golden-hair that shines like the sun; her eyes are as deep and sparkling like ten emeralds. The heart she owns is the sweetest, kindest, most caring, and the largest I've ever seen. The girl may be small and petit, but her mind and makes up for her physical strength. She may look fragile, but her resolve is stronger than a man who cares about muscle strength. The girl I see is my cute little sister, who I dearly love very much. And no one can tell you or me otherwise." Switzerland said the last sentence in a firm tone. He actually didn't mean to sound like a cliché poet, but he sincerely meant every word about her.

Liechtenstein, eyes wide with shock and confusion, her mouth in a tiny "O", couldn't believe what her brother said. No one has ever said that to her! "Vash… Do-do you really mean that?"

"Every. Single. Word."

Then, with cheeks flared and eyes sparkling, Lichtenstein gave a quick peck on Switzerland's cheek. Now it was his turn to look like a tomato! Smiling sweetly from ear to ear, Lichtenstein whispered, "Thank you, big Brother. I love you too!" Switzerland just nodded and crooked smiled.

"Let's go eat lunch now, Lily." Switzerland stood up from his kneeling position then held out his hand. Liechtenstein wiped away the remaining tears, straightened out her messy hair,and then took his hand. She was gently pulled up to stand; the two walked happily away, tightly holding each other's hand.

Ignoring the feeling that this was out of more than sibling love, Liechtenstein was too preoccupied with her thoughts. _Thank you, Big Brother,_ she mused over and over again like a lulling chant.

However, her dear brother's thoughts had something else in mind. _First thing in the checklist to do after lunch: load rifle and hunt down those bastards! _

They had quite a nice lunch, so Vash wasn't in the mood to kill anyone after… Well, maybe he was a teensy itsy bit. Well, I'm completely high from the fluff that now so excuse me while I go roll on the floor, while hugging a pillow…. HRE STYLE!

AW! Aren't Liechtenstein and Switzerland the cutest OTP pairing evah?! X3 I can't stop the sweetness from giving me cavities! I hope I can write more fics of these two, but I'll die from the sweetness of fluff.

Please review, I appreciate them really.

DISCLAIMER: I no no own Hetalia! Hidekazu Himaruya yes yes owns Hetalia~!


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